


Strip Puzzles

by Tat_Tat



Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-30
Updated: 2013-05-30
Packaged: 2017-12-13 10:18:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/823162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tat_Tat/pseuds/Tat_Tat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the title says, a game of strip puzzles, much to the Professor's chagrin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strip Puzzles

“How about a round of puzzles, my boy.” His words were more a command than an invitation. Luke closed his book and set it on the table, glancing across the table as his mentor.

“If one train goes 20 miles per hour...” the professor began. He had a dazed look in his face; anyone who had known Hershel long enough knew this meant he was thoroughly involved in the puzzle. Luke answered after a minute's pause.

“That's... wrong I'm afraid.”

Luke loosened his tie. “Drat.” The archaeologist assumed the young man was uncomfortable with his loss.

“Don't worry about it. We'll go back to it later,” he assured and recited the next puzzle while Luke capriciously tossed the ribbon of auburn cloth onto the table. He answered once Layton finished. His answer was hesitant, as if unsure.

Upon hearing he was wrong, the boy began to unbutton his vest. The professor raised a brow. Perhaps it was hot? He gave Luke another brain teaser, then asked if he should fetch a glass of water while Luke contemplated. Luke raised a hand and shook his head. He answered the puzzle immediately and incorrectly. 

The older man stood up, concerned. The boy wasn't even trying! 

“Lu-” he began, but his chastise drifted. His eyes were lured by the apprentice's shirt parting, button by button. “I understand this summer is quite humid, but this is far from ungentlemanly-- it's barbaric to undress in the parlor.”

“Oh, didn't you know, Professor?” Luke said lazily, disregarding the scowl on his mentor's simple features as he sloppily left his shirt on the chair. He strode behind the other man and rested her palms on firm shoulders. “This is a strip puzzle game.”

If Luke wasn't half-naked and warming his neck with bated breath, Layton would have pulled him by the ear-- or reluctantly left the room. Instead he sat rigid, mouth agape, while Luke asked him if he had ever heard of this particular puzzle.

“No answer?” Luke taunted, already lifting the top hat from his mentor. He set it on the oak table carefully. He wasn't as careless with the professor's articles as he was his own.

“Tell me, have you heard this one...?” he said with his forehead pressed against Layton's.

The man blinked. He wanted to answer, but he couldn't focus on anything other than his apprentice's mouth teasing him, so close, so far. He was being baited. He had finally understood six months ago why he annoyed some people-- intelligence was an annoyance. The boy knew him too well. He was just too smart.

“Stumped again?” Luke grinned, his lips inched closer. Layton could almost feel him; he inwardly fumed knowing Luke wasn't going to close the distance. For years Luke had reached out for him, and now, the boy wanted the tables turned. He wanted Layton to want him as uncontrollably as he did.

“What about this one? Last chance.”

Layton groaned. How did Luke expect him to pay attention with his chest being pawed underneath his suit? He raised a brow dully. Wait, Luke didn't expect him to listen to the problems. At all.

The next thing he heard was the metal zing of the zip. Startled, he stumbled but Luke took him by his waist and ran his tongue along the half-swollen member, making him plop back into his seat. Dazed he watched Luke draw his mouth close to his organ, a graze and nothing more. Hershel's hands shook, ungentlemanly thoughts parading his mind and coming in to play as he trailed his wide fingers along Luke's scalp and his thumb ran across moistened lips. 

He held him by the chin and gently pulled him closer to his arousal. The youth grimaced triumphantly and did as silently told. His mouth enveloped the head, then pulled back, and again gently forcing it inside his wetness.

A trickle of precum fell to the corner of Luke's mouth and left a trail in the air as he pulled away. He felt the professor's thighs rigid under his palms, anxious for more but too proper to actually ask. Luke wiped his lips, smiling into the back of his hand. “Say, could we try that one thing again?” He moistened his index finger and rolled the foreskin over it. Lazily he drew circles, watching the man struggle to shoot his suggestion down.

“It won't hurt this time, I'm sure. I have been practicing.” He pulled his finger away and before Layton could say no, Luke's hand circled his shaft, changing his disapproval to a groan. “Please?” Luke pressed adamantly, sucking the testicles persuasively. 

He pulled away, seeing he had the man in a very dazed state. While Professor Layton was a gentlemen, when it came down to being strung along on arousal he was like any man. Sometimes Luke thought his mentor resented his male impulses even though they were nwhere near as vulgar as some. 

Silent, victoriously, Luke slipped his pants off and took Layton's heavy hand, placing it on his bottom. He felt it flex and cup around his cheek like a reflex. Then, after hearing a few pumps from the lotion dispenser (they kept the lubricant hidden in an ordinary lotion bottle, which befuddled anyone who happened to use it) he felt two fingers tentatively pry him open.

Two was no problem, Luke huffed. He thought before they started he would need to force himself to relax like he did practicing but he found himself feeling more than relaxed-- he was elated and it was becoming harder to hold himself up, hands flat on the dainty oak table. 

“It doesn't hurt?” 

“Not at all. Keep going.” The end of his sentence hitched and he wondered how long he could hold himself up against his buckling knees. He almost lost his balance when Hershel's free hand toyed with his member, rubbing under the foreskin and gliding it up and down. “An...” He raised his hips to the hand in front of him. If he was going to topple over any time soon, he wouldn't have realized it. 

“See... a... it doesn't hurt. Please let me have you.” 

“Very well. But if it starts to hurt, we'll have to stop.”

Luke nodded, and drew in paced breaths rather than go with his urge to hold his breath. He felt the familiar tip brush his entrance and he spread his legs parallel and waited anxiously. The professor's hesitance to even test the waters was enough to make him whine.

“Patience,” Layton assured as he pressed slowly inside. The sensation was a shock to the two. They basked in the volcanic glow of their bodies intermingled. 

Unsure, Layton eased himself out, his head lingering in. 

“Don't you dare stop.” His back was to him but Layton could feel the glare as if Luke were staring straight at him. 

The man was relieved to not hear a shred of pain in the younger one's voice and smiled in a way no one had ever seen from Hershel Layton. “If you insist.” 

He thrusted deeper, to the hilt. Luke's eyes grew so large he thought they were going to pop out, his mouth hung open, unable to utter the praise he intended. He moaned in the back of his throat, growing louder, and straining himself to keep his balance as the man he looked up to so intensely moved inside him in long strokes. Sometimes he stood still until Luke begged-- or was it demanded?-- he not tease him, and when he was finally given what he wanted, his legs quaked and his knees gave but he scarcely noticed, for the professor's arm swooped him back up and held him through his peak.

When Luke recovered, he stood up and searched the room. The Professor and his garments were no longer there in the parlor room. Chuckling, Luke gathered his wrinkled clothes and shook his head. The man was just too shy.


End file.
